


Blinded By the Love I Had

by quiet_rebel



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Future Fic, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet_rebel/pseuds/quiet_rebel
Summary: You wake up one day and you're suddenly married to the man who kidnapped you and your family.





	Blinded By the Love I Had

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the mood to write fluffy sethkate fic, so here it is! Enjoy! Please forgive me for the second person POV, but that's how Kate wanted tell the story.
> 
> Title is from ["Flash" by Cigarettes After Sex](https://youtu.be/nrWC_z6l13w)
> 
> Feedback is fuel.

You wake up one day and you're suddenly twenty-two. You have scars on your wrists and a cross around your neck. You bake chocolate chip cookies. You prefer rainy days over sunny ones. You sing hymns on Sundays. If you concentrate hard enough, you can still hear your father's voice from the podium. 

_“Katie-cakes, can you hear me?”_

_“Yes, Daddy, I can hear you.”_

It's a nice daydream.

You wake up one day and you're suddenly married to the man who kidnapped you and your family. ( _“You're my family now.”_ ) He has scars too, mostly hidden inside. He slips a simple gold band around your finger when you say, “I do.” He adds your name to the black flames tattooed on his arm.

You like to trace it when you're in bed with him. 

He likes to trace you too, his fingers brushing your face, your shoulder, your hip.

You think this is a dream, but then—

You wake up one day and you're suddenly a mother. A baby boy with dark hair and lungs like his daddy. His uncles spoil him, give him nicknames like “Pipsqueak” and “Junior.” You still bake cookies, but begin to enjoy the sunshine a little bit more.

After your son is born, you don't get much sleep. When he cries in the middle of the night, you nudge your husband next to you in bed. It's his turn. Still partners after all this time.

You're glad he didn't let go.

It doesn't take long for him to add the baby's name next to yours on his arm.

You trace the fresh, black ink when he's whispering in your ear. “I love you.”

You mark him too, running your nails down his back.

_I love you too._

You wake up one day and you're suddenly wondering if someone should pinch you. You're watching your husband change diapers and wash bottles. You're drinking beers under the stars with your brother. You sneak a cigarette in every now and then with your other one. You still wear bikinis to the pool (to hell with stretch marks). You say your prayers in the morning and fuck your husband in the evening. You learn to make crème brûlée. 

“Do you miss it? The score?” You have to ask your husband because you find yourself missing it sometimes. 

“Yeah,” he says because he's always been honest with you. 

No more bank heists. No more guns. 

But that's okay with the both of you. 

Your best score loves to listen to you sing, hangs on to his daddy's every single word, and is learning how to crawl.

You wake up one day and you're suddenly twenty-three. You're a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter, a criminal, a survivor. Your scars are a distant memory. His too.

“Seth.” You roll over in bed and find him next to you holding your son. They're both awake. Five tiny fingers wrapped around Seth's one. He still looks at the baby like that day in the delivery room; eyes brimming with tears as he smiled at their “goddamn miracle.”

You know the stories about Seth's father. You know Seth has vowed to never repeat history.

You touch your baby's cheek, and he coos at you like he's telling you, “Good morning.” 

“Good morning,” you say back.

Seth places the baby into your arms and kisses you. When he pulls away, you think you're still sleeping, still dreaming. How else could it be possible that your Prince Charming ended up being a thief? That you're holding your baby boy? That you escaped death twice before even turning twenty? That you get to wake up again to a new day next to your husband and son?

_“Katie-cakes, can you hear me?”_

You don't answer.

_“Katie-cakes...”_

You don't answer because you're not dreaming.

“Kate?”

It's Seth's voice you hear now.

It's Seth's ring you're wearing.

It's Seth's baby you're holding.

It's Seth.

THE END


End file.
